Calling Nevada
by singitanyway13
Summary: Calling Nevada after a year was the last thing they ever thought they'd do. Brock/Reba
1. Chapter 1

**-Calling Nevada-**

"Are we bunking together?"

Reba Hart rolled her eyes at her son-in-law's question as she rolled her suitcase out the airport's doors.

"Van, you're with a different agency," She told him, checking the card the rental car service had given her for the parking spot to the car she had rented. "You'll be in a completely different hotel."

The two had flown out to Las Vegas for a real estate seminar. It was held in a different place every year and Van was ecstatic when he heard that this year's would be held in Sin City. Reba had been to Nevada before, but just for sight-seeing and really had no interest in gambling or anything else the town had to offer. She was sure Van would go out and play cards or slots with a few friends from his agency, but she told herself she'd stay in her hotel room when she wasn't at the seminar.

"Oh," Van said, walking behind her with his own rolling suitcase. "Where am I staying?"

Reba shrugged, not bothering to look back. "Not really sure. Aren't you supposed to figure that out, being a grown man and all?" She located the rental car and unlocked it, placing her bag in the backseat. "I'm also not sure why you're following me."

Van made a face. "I'm not going to walk to my hotel."

"No, but you are going to drive your own car. Why didn't you rent one when we were still in the airport?" She closed the backdoor with a slam, watching Van's facial expression change to a confused look.

"What...?"

"Different agencies pay for different stuff? Your agency stays at one hotel, mine stays at another? Get where I'm going with this?" She made motions with her hands for exaggeration.

He just kind of stood there a moment. "Oh. Well, I guess I'm going back inside then..."

"Good call." She got in her car and started it, just about to put it in reverse to back out when she noticed that Van was still standing there. She rolled the window down. "Problem?"

He leaned down to her level, peering at her. "I don't have my company card."

"Where did you put it?"

"I don't know."

"Van, is this your first real estate seminar?" She was becoming irritated with him. She was cranky from the flight and having to deal with all the rude people in the airport, plus their flight had left at five AM, not leaving much time for her to get any sleep seeing how she had been up until after midnight working on some papers. Running a hand over her face, she said, "Where was the last place you remember having it?"

"At home."

"In Houston."

Van nodded. "Yeah. Wait!" His eyes lit up. "Check your purse!"

"My purse?"

Van nodded again, holding out his hand. "I think I put it in there. Lemme see!"

She grabbed her purse that was in her lap and held it away from him. "I will look, thank you." She began to dig through the contents of her bag, searching until she found what she was looking for in the front pocket. As she handed it to him, she looked at him with harsh eyes. "And by the way, stay out of my purse, you donkey."

He took it from her and winked. "Can do. I'll see you later on at the convention center."

"Five o'clock," She reminded him.

"I'll be there."

"If you don't forget your pants or your car." She smiled sarcastically as she rolled up the window, rolling out of the parking spot in search of a place for lunch.

* * *

Eight o'clock came around and the first meeting ended. Reba dragged herself into her hotel room and let her purse and briefcase fall to the floor. She stepped out of her high heels and landed face-first on the bed. That bed was all she had been thinking about since five AM that morning.

She managed to rest for a few moments with her face buried in the bedspread, but couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. Her mind was still buzzing after listening to boring real estate stuff for three hours. She didn't even get a chance to talk to Van afterwards because he left before the thing was even over. She'd have to talk to him about that next time they spoke.

Sitting up and sighing loudly, she decided she'd go downstairs to the hotel restaurant's bar and have a drink, thinking that maybe that would shut her mind off the for the evening. Slowly, she slipped her shoes back on and grabbed her wallet before heading out into the hallway.

Once down in the lobby, she made her way to the bar and sat down on one of the stools, ordering a margarita.

"Hey cutie. Is this seat taken?"

Reba didn't even turn around. She wasn't in the mood to have any kind of conversation, much less a flirtatious one. "Yes, it is. My I'm-Single-And-Happy attitude is sitting there."

"Reba."

At the mention of her name, she twirled around to see none other than her ex-husband standing behind her. "What in the name of dirt and worms are you doing here?"

"Dental convention." He smiled. "Can I sit down?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. "I don't care."

He took a seat and ordered a beer, which the bartender promptly brought to him.

"What are you doing in Sin City, huh, Red?" Brock took a sip of his drink and watched Reba sip hers.

"Real estate seminar with Van." She sighed, taking her shoe on and off with her foot. Brock noticed and couldn't help but grin. She had always done that when she was bored. "Three days of nothing but real estate. Fun, fun, fun." She looked over at him for the first time since he sat down. "I didn't know you had a dental convention going on."

He shrugged. "When you don't talk to a person for three months, you miss things in their life."

"Hmm."

"What?"

She shook her head.

"No, what?" He asked.

"You just sounded a bit ticked off."

"We haven't talked in three months is all. It doesn't seem to bother you."

"Does it bother you?"

"I thought we were pretty good in the friend department."

"We are. Are you blaming me for us not talking for three months? I've had a bunch of stuff going on at work and with helping Kyra plan for college-"

"I'm not mad!" He held up his hands. "I was just saying."

"Well, I'm just saying. And I'm not in a good mood, so I don't recommend starting with me."

"I'm not starting anything. Do we have to fight? I saw you over here and thought I'd come over and say hi."

"We don't have to fight."

"Okay, then." He cleared his throat. "How have you been?"

"So, so. You?" She finished her margarita and ordered another one.

"I've been good."

"How's single life treating you?"

Brock let out a long sigh. "Let me paint you a picture."

Reba chuckled. "Alright."

"Barbra Jean and I are divorced, we still live in the same house because my condo isn't ready to move into, and she still refuses to do my laundry. I'm in a bad situation."

"You poor thing. Having to do your own laundry." She patted him on the back. "I hope you make it."

He shrugged her arm off him. "My condo will be ready in a week or so, so I won't have to endure the torture for long."

"Why can't you move in now?"

"They're repainting and putting new cabinetry in. I was going to put it back on the market, but just as I was about to, Barbra Jean and I broke up and I figured I'd just keep it in case she kept the house."

"Good call." She sipped on her drink and watched as Brock laughed. "What?"

"You must have had a hard day," He said, drinking the last of his beer.

"Yeah. I've been up since five o'clock this morning."

"Why aren't you in bed?"

She could feel the affects of the alcohol starting to make her brain fuzzy and tried her best to focus on her conversation. "Couldn't sleep. My mind was all...whooooo!" She thrust her arm forwards in a zipping motion. "Couldn't calm it down."

He laughed. "Hey..."

She looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Wanna go gamble?"

She sat back in her chair, biting her lip. "I don't know..."

"Come on. It's only eight thirty. We can be back here by ten and your mind will be all relaxed and refreshed for tomorrow. Whaddya say? Let's take on Vegas."

"Bad things happen in Vegas when you've been drinking, Brock." She held up her margarita. "This is my second drink."

"Order another one, then."

"I'm going to be hungover tomorrow. I have my seminar."

"Forget about it. You can take some aspirin and have a cup of coffee first thing tomorrow."

"But hangovers suck."

He grinned. She usually didn't talk like that so he knew she was beginning to get drunk. And she was fun when she was drunk.

"Do it for me? Let's go have fun. We both have had some really crappy things going on these past few months. One night to let loose isn't going to hurt." He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "Come on, Red! Let loose for once!"

She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine. But if we get plastered and end up married, I'm blaming you! Right after I sue." She grabbed her wallet and started walking away, holding a hand up for him to follow. "Let's go before I change my mind."

He grinned and paid for their drinks before following her, wondering what all they would get into.

* * *

**I promised myself I would never have two stories going at once. It's too much to keep up with. But I got the idea for this the other day and I thought I'd just write on it while I was working on The One That Got Away and I got a bit carried away and wrote an entire chapter. So...here it is. I have writer'****s block on my other story anyway. You can imagine how confusing that story is to write. Anyway, I hope you like it. Thanks for reading! (:**


	2. Chapter 2

Reba awoke the next morning with a piercing headache and a stomach pain so bad it made her want to crawl into a ball and die. She feared opening her eyes because of the sunlight streaming in through the crack of the drapes in the hotel room. The fact that someone was shaking her didn't help her headache much, either.

"Reba... Reba..."

She shooed the hand away, cursing the very existence of the day. "Stop," She mumbled into the pillow, still half asleep.

"Reba, we have a problem."

Slowly, she began to wake up and her mind began to register that she wasn't alone. Her eyes flew open and despite her upset stomach, she rolled over and started into Brock's face. She gasped and scooted away from him.

"What are you doing?" She sat up and Brock rolled his eyes.

"Do you not remember anything?"

She jumped out of bed. "Why are you in bed with me, you mo_ron_?"

Brock sighed and looked away. "Could you put some clothes on, please?"

She looked down to see she was only in her bra and underwear. She gasped and grabbed the pillow she was just laying on and held it against her.

"What happened?" She asked. "Why are you here?"

"Last night," He said. "Do you not remember?" He took a chance and looked her way, seeing that she was covered.

"No, I do not remember. What happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember much. I guess we got drunk and...slept together."

Reba put her head in her hands and backed up to the chair that was in the corner of the room, falling into it. "Are you kidding me?" She asked, her voice muffled. _  
_

"No."

She was shaking her head. "The last thing I remember was us being at some casino. You were playing Blackjack and I was standing right behind you. After that, I don't know."

Brock nodded. "That's about all I can remember, too." He sighed. "I don't suppose you know if we used protection or not, do you?"

Her head shot up. "Oh, God. I don't know. Surely we weren't that drunk and stupid."

He shrugged. "It is Vegas."

"Turn around. I have to get dressed."

He did as she asked and she rummaged through her suitcase for an outfit.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked as she slipped a pair of dress pants on, followed by a green blouse.

"Nine thirty," He told her, glancing at the clock that was on the end table.

"I'm late for my seminar."

"Can I turn around now?"

"Yes. Get dressed. I have to go."

He watched her run into the bathroom as he slipped his jeans on. "You're really going to go to your seminar today?"

"I have to," She said from the bathroom. "I'm being paid for this."

"You're on a salary, Reba."

"Still. It's unprofessional."

"You know what else is unprofessional? Sleeping with me in Vegas and not using protection!"

She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "Excuse me?" Her eyes were like daggers.

"You could end up pregnant, Reba." He put his shirt on, straightening out the wrinkles. "What then?"

"I'm not going to get pregnant, Brock."

"Why? Have you gone through menopause?"

"No, but-"

"Well, then, there you go."

"Don't tell me you're blaming _me_ for this." She walked up to him, pointing a finger. "Maybe you should have kept it in your pants." She poked him in the chest. "If you're going to stick it in someone, wear a condom, buddy."

"I might have. I don't know."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Hey, it isn't my fault!"

She rolled her eyes, walking back to the bathroom. "We might not have even done it. Who knows. Just get dressed and get out of here."

"Oh, so we're just going to pretend like this never happened?" He walked to where she was. "And besides, I know it happened. That's one of the few things I remember." He chanced a smile. "And it wasn't bad."

She looked at him through the mirror she was standing in front of, putting her makeup on. "That was inappropriate."

"Don't start about what is and isn't appropriate. You were doing some very inappropriate things last night that I'm sure the people at the Bellagio caught on camera."

Reba turned around, pointing at him with her mascara wand. "If you don't shut up, this is going in your eye."

He backed up. "Do we have to fight about this?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, then. We can do it some other time. I'm already tired of being blamed for this when you obviously had a lot to do with it as well." He turned to go and she scoffed.

"Oh, so we're just going to pretend like this never happened?" She said, mocking what he had said before. But he had already walked into the other room. She finished her makeup and followed him, seeing him just finishing up putting his shoes on.

"Look," He said, standing up. "This is really nothing. So we got drunk and slept together in Vegas? I'm sure we're not the first people to do so. It's not a big deal."

"I guess..." She folded her arms, thinking about how he really was right. Neither one of them were married, so they weren't really cheating.

"Let's just put this behind us, okay? We don't have to talk about it ever again. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

She sighed. "Deal."

"Okay." He nodded. "I gotta get out of here. I got my own seminar to get to. I'll call you later, though, alright?"

"Alright."

He awkwardly headed towards the door with a little wave before exiting. She took a deep breath, trying to take everything in. It really wasn't a big deal, like he had said. She just had to get past it and forget about the whole thing.

She went for her purse to get her lip gloss, trying to finish getting ready so she didn't miss much more of her seminar. Reaching in, she saw that a piece of folded up paper was right next to what she was looking for. She kept all kinds of receipts but usually put them in her wallet, so she was confused as to what it was. She located her lip gloss, but pulled out the paper, too. Opening it, she nearly had a heart attack. It was a marriage license. Signed by her. Signed by Brock. Signed by some the Elvis impersonator that married them. They were legally married.

That was when she noticed the cheap ring that made its home on her left hand. Up until now, it had gone completely unnoticed. She held up her hand and couldn't take her eyes off it. Surely it was just her imagination.

The door to the room opened and she heard Brock's voice behind her.

"I left my keys up here."

She heard him fumbling around, looking for his keys, but couldn't bring herself to move an inch.

"Are you okay?" She finally heard him say.

That seemed to give her permission to move. She slowly turned around with a blank stare on her face, holding out the license. "Here."

Brock walked over to her and took it, his eyes widening as he registered what it was.

"Oh, dear God..."

Reba held up her left hand. "Look."

He raised his head and saw the ring. "Is that...?"

"A ring, yes." She took it off. "A cheap one, at that."

"Hey." He sounded offended.

She looked up at him. "Really?"

"What the hell is this?" He shook the paper.

"A marriage license, you idiot!"

"I know that, but I mean what the hell, Reba? We can't be married! I just got divorced, dammit!"

"I know that, Brock." She took the paper back from him, looking over it. "This is just too convenient. The first time in nearly ten years I decide to listen to you and go out and have a little fun, this is what happens! This kind of stuff always happens when I'm with you!"

"Uh, Reba?"

"What?"

He held up his left hand and she looked closer as he sighed.

"I'm going to need this tattoo to be temporary."

She sat down on the bed and grabbed a pillow, covering her face and screaming into it. It seemed appropriate. Here she was in Vegas, having slept with her ex-husband whom she was now married to, sealing the deal with a tattoo ring. Her kind of work trip, for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

"What in the world are we going to do?" Reba asked, her voice cracking. She sat down on the bed, the marriage license still in her hands.

"We're going to get it annulled," Brock told her.

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "We can go do it right now."

"What about my seminar and your convention? What about Van? If I'm not there, he's going to be calling me and hounding me about missing the classes when I lectured him the whole flight about being there when you say you're going to be there."

Brock shrugged. "Which is more important to you?"

She stood up. "Let's go."

* * *

When the two arrived at the Clark County courthouse, they rushed inside, eager to get this matter taken care of. Brock took charge and walked up to the two police officers guarding the door.

"I need to speak with someone about getting an annulment," He told them. "Where do I need to go?"

"Second floor. You'll see the signs," The officer with gray hair told him.

Brock thanked him and Reba followed him up the stairs. She couldn't believe she was in this situation. Of course it had crossed her mind that it could possibly happen, but never in a million years would she have thought their night of fun could lead to this. Was she really that stupid?

She followed Brock until he stopped at a window and began speaking to the lady behind it.

"I need to get an annulment," He told her. "I have no idea how to go about doing that."

Reba walked up beside him and noted the embarrassment in his voice.

"Are both parties present?" The lady asked.

Brock nodded, pointing to Reba with his thumb. "She's right here."

The lady nodded. "You'll need to decide on which packet to use. Do you two have any children?"

"Yes," Brock told her. "We've been married before, but divorced about eight years ago. We-"

The lady held a hand up. "I don't mean to be rude, sir, but I'm not interested in how you became married again."

Brock shrugged. "Fair enough. So, what do we need to do?"

"Like I said, a packet needs to be picked so we can go about this the proper way. Have you both been residents of Nevada for six weeks or just one of you?"

"Neither one of us is from here," Reba spoke up. "We're from Texas."

The lady stopped gathering papers and looked up. "You need to be residents of the state for at least six weeks prior to the marriage in order to get a legal annulment."

"Well, we're not," Brock said. "What now?"

"You'll have to take that up at your local country courthouse."

"But we got married here," Reba said.

"I don't make the rules, ma'am. I just enforce them."

Reba sighed and looked at Brock. "What now?"

"Thank you anyway, ma'am," Brock told the lady and walked away from the window. Reba followed closely behind.

"What now?" She asked again.

"We have to wait until we go home, I guess."

"Wait? We can't wait. This needs to be taken care of!"

"Reba, like you said this morning, you're getting paid to go to your seminar. I'm getting paid to go to my convention. I can't just ditch it to fly back home to get a marriage annulled."

"But we won't be back until the end of the week. That means we'll have to wait until Monday to get it handled. I don't want to be married to you for five days! I don't even want to be married to you for five minutes!"

"Well, what do you want me to do, Reba? Why don't we scream about it in the courthouse some more, huh? Maybe that'll fix it." He began to walk towards the stairs they had just come up.

"Brock, I am not going to wait until Monday to get this taken care of. I will call my boss and tell him I have an emergency and I have to fly home. You call whoever you need to call and we can take the late flight out of Las Vegas tonight."

"I'm going to need you to stop telling me what to do," He told her as he rushed down the steps. She hurried to keep up with him.

"Don't even start with me. Why do you want to drag this on for a week, Brock? I'm telling you, it won't be a big deal to fly back home tonight."

"What are you going to tell Van?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Brock rolled his eyes as the two exited the courthouse. "You know he'll make a big deal about it if you tell him the truth. It'll have spread all over Houston before we even get there."

"Then I won't tell him. He doesn't even know you're here. I'll just tell him I got sick and have to go home. He won't question me."

Brock gave her a look and she sighed. "Okay, he won't question me for long."

"I just really can't believe this even happened," He told her when they reached her rental car. "We were supposed to be done being stupid kids thirty years ago."

"Apparently everyone still has a little bit of stupid kid left in them. Hopefully, we just let our last bit out."

* * *

Once Reba had gotten all her excuses for coming home lined out, she found herself seated next to Brock on the next flight out of Nevada.

"I really don't like flying," She said after they had descended and the seat-belt sign went off.

"Why?" Brock asked, thumbing through one of the magazines he bought at the airport.

"We're up in the air with a long way down should something go wrong." She nervously looked out her window.

Brock shrugged. "We'll be there in no time."

He read his magazine for a few more minutes before setting it in his lap. "I'm bored," He said with a sigh. "Hey, remember when we joined the mile-high club?" He looked over at her and watched as her face turned red. "We were flying to Cancun for our tenth anniversary."

"I remember," She said quickly, hoping he'd drop the subject. But being himself, he didn't.

"Sure was cramped in that bathroom."

"Yep."

"Wanna renew our membership?"

Reba turned her head sharply to meet his mischievous face. "No!"

"Aw, come on. We _are_ married, you know." He ran his hand up her thigh and she slapped it away before he could get any more ideas.

"Not for long. Keep your hands to yourself, Brock."

"Come on, Reba, I was just kidding around. I know you're too much of a prude now to even let the thought of doing something like that enter your perfect little mind." He went back to reading his magazine.

"I'm not a prude," She told him.

He nodded. "You're right. When you're drunk, you're the craziest person ever, but sober? _Boring_."

"I am not boring. I'm conservative."

"Says the woman who I had to force off of a bar last night."

She glared at him. "That was one time, and I'd appreciate it if you never brought it up again. I thought we agreed to put all that happened last night behind us."

"Face it, Reba. You're only fun when you're drunk."

"Well, I must not be very boring. You married me."

"We were drunk when we got married. I'm sure it was a lovely ceremony, too. The people at Little Elvis' Big Wedding Chapel will be sending us the pictures."

"You better not have given them your address. Imagine if Barbra Jean got a hold of them!"

"No, I didn't give them my address."

"Good thing."

"I gave them yours."

She narrowed her eyes. "That was the last time I ever go to Vegas with you!"

"Yeah, same to you, wifey."

"Would you just shut up for the rest of the flight? You're embarrassing me and I'm getting nauseous just looking at you." She turned away from him.

"Excuse me." Brock flagged down a flight attendant. "Could you get my wife a bag? I think she's going to be sick. Thanks." He smiled at her and turned to Reba. "I've got it under control. Not to worry." He patted her leg.

Shooing him away once more, she glared at him. "I don't need any help from you. The faster we get to Houston the better. And once we get there and get this matter taken care of, I don't want to ever speak to you again!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She turned her back completely away from him and watched the clouds float around her window.

"You didn't even thank me for letting you have the window seat," Brock said a moment later.

"Here's your wife's bag." The flight attendant appeared beside Brock and held the bag to him. Reba turned to her with a smile.

"Could you put that over his head? I'm getting sick just looking at him. Thanks."

Brock took the bag from the flight attendant, thanking her as she walked away.

"You think I was embarrassing you a few minutes ago? Brock asked, shaking his head as he opened the bag. "You ain't seen nothing yet." He acted as per Reba's wishes and placed the bag over his head. "There," He said, his voice muffled. "Now you don't have to look at me and I don't have to look at you. Problem solved for everyone."

"Take that off your head," Reba told him, reaching out. He pulled away before she could snatch it off.

"No, you made your decision. It's staying on until we get to Houston." He folded his arms and sat back in his seat.

"You're an idiot."

"I know." He sighed. "This is nice. Now if only I had some earplugs to tune out your bitching."

"I wish I had my gun right about now."

He clapped his hands in her direction. "Smart move, Reba, mentioning guns on a flight. How about we talk about bombs next? Do you want to be detained by an air marshal?"

"Would you stop talking?"

"I'll stop talking if you stop talking."

"Fine. I'll stop talking."

"Good."

"Yeah, good."

Reba turned away from him again, muttering about how stupid he was and how she couldn't believe he was wearing a bag on his head.

"I can still hear you."

She sighed and leaned her head back, wondering how much longer this flight was going to be. She couldn't get to Houston fast enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Brock and Reba took a taxi home because they both had left their cars in their driveways. All Reba told him was that she would see him bright and early in the morning and then she was gone to her own house, greeting Kyra and Jake as she walked in with her luggage.

"You're back early," Kyra said, switching off the television. "I thought you weren't coming back until Friday."

Reba sighed, closing the door. "I thought so, too."

"Reba? Is that you?"

Reba looked up to see Barbra Jean walk out of her kitchen juggling three bowls of ice cream.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, walking over to the chair and falling into it.

"Keeping the kids company." She handed out the bowls and spoons to Jake and Kyra, keeping one for herself. "I got bored at home. Henry's at Cheyenne's." She began to eat. "I thought you weren't coming home until Friday."

"Did your seminar get cancelled?" Jake asked.

"No..." Reba said, trying to figure out how to explain the situation.

"Hey, Reba, have you seen- Barbra Jean."

Everyone looked up to see Brock come through the front door, looking for his ex-wife.

"Hello, Brock," Barbra Jean said rather coldly.

"Hi," He said. "If I had known you were over here, I would have just stayed at the house."

"What do you need?" She asked. Reba could tell she was becoming irritated already, and she couldn't blame the woman.

"I was just making sure you were okay. I tried calling you."

"I have my phone on silent. What are you doing back so early?"

"Something came up..."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Brock kind of stood there awkwardly before looking to Reba. "Did you tell everybody?"

She slowly turned to face him, glaring at him as she did so. "No, I did not tell them, Brock." She gritted her teeth. "I was trying to find a light way to put it."

"What's going on?" Kyra asked.

Reba cleared her throat. "Well," She said. "I didn't know that your dad had a dental convention in Vegas the same time I had my seminar and we kind of met up."

"At a bar?" Barbra Jean questioned.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Typical. Go on."

Reba sighed. "Well, we had a few drinks and went to a casino to play cards and apparently got married."

You could hear a pin drop as everybody's mouths slowly dropped open. Reba looked up at Brock. "Nice going."

"I didn't know!" He told her, holding his hands up.

"Oh, somebody say somethin'!" Reba turned towards the kids and Barbra Jean. "I can't take the silence!"

"Well," Barbra Jean said after a moment, placing her uneaten ice cream on the table. "If this is what you two want..."

"What?" Reba and Brock said at the same time.

"We don't want to be married," Reba finished, pointing at the two of them.

"Yeah," Brock continued. "It was completely accidental. We got drunk and got married at a chapel. The service was initiated by a midget Elvis impersonator."

"My mind is blown," Kyra said, looking over at Jake who had yet to speak.

"We want you to know that we're getting the marriage annulled first thing tomorrow," Reba said, leaning forward, hoping and praying no one would overreact or get angry. That was the last thing she needed after dealing with Brock on the airplane. "That's why we had to come home early."

"So, you're not staying married?" Jake asked, finally finding his voice.

"No, honey," Reba said. "We're not."

"Why?"

Brock laughed. "Because we drive each other nuts."

Reba lifted her eyes towards Brock. "Some of us more than others."

He rolled his eyes at her before turning to his son. "We tried being married, son. It just wasn't meant to be."

Reba was a bit taken aback. She didn't show it and she didn't say anything, but that was a bit harsh. Years ago, it was meant to be. Surely he meant now, but she wasn't sure.

"Jake," She began. "Your dad and I have our differences now-"

"But you could try," He interrupted.

"Jake, it's not going to happen," Kyra told him, trying to lay the truth down in front of him gently.

"You don't get it!" He said, standing up. "This could be great! Mom and Dad back together! We could be a family again!"

Reba shook her head. "Honey, we don't want to be married to each other. It was an accident."

"No," Brock said. "It was stupidity. It was a really, _really_ stupid thing to do and you should remember this, Jake. Never go to Vegas with your ex-wife and get drunk off your rocker."

"Was that necessary?" Reba asked, looking up at Brock. He just shrugged as Reba turned her attention back to her son. "Trust me, honey. You don't want us to stay married. It would be nothing but fighting-"

"But you fight now!" He said. "The only difference is we would be a real family!"

"Jake," Barbra Jean interjected. "You do have a real family. It's just not the same as everyone else's. Who wants to be the same, anyway?"

"You guys just don't get it," He mumbled, making his way out of the living room and into the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the backdoor open and close.

"I'll go make sure he's okay," Kyra said, standing up and leaving as well.

Once she was gone, Barbra Jean stood up. "Have you two lost your minds?"

"What?" Reba asked.

The blonde scoffed. "This was obviously meant to be!"

Reba stood. "Oh, please! Don't give me that! Brock and I got drunk and got married in Vegas. Please explain how that was meant to be."

"Reba, you two are perfect together. When you divorced, it wasn't because you didn't love each other, it was because of me."

"Barbra Jean, we've been over this," Brock said. "Reba and I had other problems that led to our divorce."

"And you're telling me those problems couldn't be resolved? If I hadn't come into the picture, would you two still be married? Be honest."

Reba wasn't sure. Once she heard of Brock's affair, she was done and didn't care if she ever saw him again. But if he hadn't had one, would she have loved him enough to fight? Luckily, Brock answered for her.

"There's no way to tell, Barbra Jean," He said.

"It wouldn't be weird for me," She told them. "I know Brock and I just got divorced, but I'm already seeing someone. I'm okay with you two trying to work something out. Wouldn't bother me a bit."

"We don't want to work it out!" Reba yelled. "I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. Married. To. Him." She pointed at Brock. "That's my past, okay? Not my future."

She didn't see Brock's hurt face as Barbra Jean shrugged. "I'm just saying. Listen to your son. Give it a try. You'd really be stupid not to at least try."

"Jake doesn't know the first thing about what it takes to make a marriage work," Brock said. "It's better for him for us to stay apart than to stay together and listen to us fight constantly."

"Exactly," Reba said. "We're going to the courthouse first thing tomorrow and that's final."

* * *

"Got your handy-dandy divorce pen ready to sign the papers?"

Reba rolled her eyes as she walked inside the attorney's office they next day. They were directed there by the courthouse and Reba had to admit that she had an uneasy feeling. She vowed to never go to another attorney concerning Brock ever again and here she was going back on that.

"We're not getting divorced," She told him. "We're getting an annulment."

"Same thing."

"No, it is not the same thing." She walked up to the secretary. "We're here to see Adam Woods," She told the woman.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Reba Hart."

"I'll let him know you're here." She disappeared into the other room and Reba turned to Brock.

"You just let me do the talking here, got it? You just sit there and look pretty."

"But you were always better at that than me."

"Just do it."

"Right this way," The secretary appeared again and led them into Adam Woods' office.

"Hello, there," Adam greeted when the door was closed. "Please have a seat." He motioned to the two chairs that sat in front of his large desk. "Reba Hart and...?"

"Brock Hart," Reba said. "This is Brock."

"Nice to meet you," He said, smiling. "What can I do for you two today?"

"We need an annulment. Like yesterday."

Adam nodded and pulled a folder out of a drawer. "Alright. Couple of questions. Were you married in the state of Texas?"

"No. Nevada."

"Were you either under the influence of alcohol or narcotics, impotent at the time of the marriage, induced to be married by use of fraud, duress or force, mentally incapacitated, one concealed a divorce from the other, or the marriage took place within the 72-hour waiting period between the issuance of the license and the ceremony?"

"Wow, that was a mouthful." Reba tried to lighten the mood with a chuckle but Brock gently elbowed her and she cleared her throat. "Umm, it would be the first one."

"Alright. I'm assuming this was a Vegas incident."

"Yes." She averted her eyes from his, looking down. It wasn't something she wanted to be broadcasting to anyone, especially given her age and status in the community.

"Okay. And here comes the kicker: Have you two consummated the marriage?"

Reba sat back in her seat, looking at him now. "That's a bit of a personal question."

"But a necessary one nonetheless. Have you?"

"Yes."

Adam put his pen down. "Then I'm afraid you'll have to go through divorce court. Texas law states that once the marriage is consummated, the marriage can no longer be voided. It's like a hit on your record. Always going to be there."

"But we've already been married and divorce once!" Reba told him.

"Well," Adam said, leaning back in his chair. "I can tell you one thing, this one will be a heck of a lot easier, I'm sure. How long have you been married this time around?"

"About forty-eight hours."

"Oh, yeah. I'm assuming neither party will contest it?"

"Correct."

He folded his hands just under his chin, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. "Oh, yeah. Piece of cake. The only thing that could happen is the judge could decide to try and make you work it out. He'd really have to reason to, but you never know. Strange things happen."

* * *

**I've done a bit of research regarding the law on this subject and while I've twisted it a bit, it's mainly true. (: Thank you all for reviewing and sending in PMs! They make my day. (: **


	5. Chapter 5

The two filed for divorce that day. Since the circumstances weren't ideal, the trial was set for a week later. Brock and Reba both showed up the courthouse separately, but walked in the courtroom together. They both sat at the tables opposite one another and waited for the judge to come out. When he did, they stood then sat back down with the judge.

"Mr and Mrs. Hart," The judge said, looking at their file. "This is a very interesting case."

"Yes, your honor," Reba said. "Also, accidental."

"I read that." He placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, causing Reba to stifle a laugh. He looked to be about five years her junior. Wearing those glasses made him look a bit older. He had graying brown hair and wasn't half bad to look at. Reba looked at his nameplate, reading the last name. Zabarkes.

"Look," The judge said. "Apparently this is your second trip here?"

"Yes, we've been divorced once before."

"Do you have children?"

"Three."

The judge sighed. "You two aren't the first couple who have come in here after a night in Vegas, asking to be granted a divorce because of some stupid, drunken whim. Frankly, I'm tired of having to deal with it."

"No, your honor," Brock said, standing. "It's not like that. Reba and I are very hardworking, responsible people. This was simply a...a fluke. These kinds of things never happen to us."

The judge shrugged. "Not my problem. There are too many divorces nowadays because of stupid circumstances like this one. If I let you two off, everyone will continue to do these stupid things and waltz into my courtroom acting like they deserve an out when they don't."

"What are you saying?" Reba asked slowly as Brock sat back down.

"I'm saying that I'm not granting you a divorce, Mrs. Hart!" He said in an annoyed tone.

"What?" Brock asked, looking at Reba incredulously. "He can't do that. You can't do that, your honor."

"No, not permanently," He responded. "But I can postpone the date that the divorce is final. Maybe it will teach you and all the other people who pull this stunt a lesson. You two will stay married for twelve months. Work it out and stay married or don't. Either way, in three hundred and sixty-six days, your divorce will be final and not a moment sooner." He banged his gavel and stood. "Court is dismissed."

He disappeared into his quarters and Brock and Reba sat in their chairs, mouths hanging open.

"He can't do that," Brock managed to squeak out after the bailiff had left.

"Apparently, he can," Reba said, putting her head in her hands.

"But that goes against our rights!"

"Not really. He's not making us stay married forever. Just for twelve months. One...whole...year..."

"I'm not going to be able to do that, Reba." Brock finally turned to face her. "I can't stay married to you."

Reba turned to him. "Oh, you can't stay married to me? HA! There is no way I'm going to be able to stay married to you!" She pointed at him and stood. "This is literally the second worst day of my life!"

Brock was a bit taken aback. "Don't you think you're overreacting a bit? I mean, we don't have to live together." He didn't bother asking what her first worst day of her life was. He wasn't sure he wanted to listen to her rehash it.

"No, you're darn right we don't have to live together. And we won't! But what if I met someone and wanted to marry them? I wouldn't be able to! It's unfair!"

"Oh, yeah. Like you'd meet someone and marry them. Reba, honestly, these past few years, I've give up on you ever finding someone."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I can't see you with anyone. I can't see you having a boyfriend."

She made a face. "I really don't know what to say to that, Brock."

"I really didn't say it to be hurtful."

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know. I just-"

"Oh, save it, Brock." She stood up and began walking out of the room. Brock really wasn't sure how to handle her temper anymore, so he just let her go.

* * *

Reba sat at the bar in the kitchen, thinking about all the craziness of the past week. Van had come home a few days before and demanded to know the real reason for her leaving the seminar early and so, of course, she had to tell him and Cheyenne the truth. They were okay with it because they thought the situation was going to be handled. Everybody thought that. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen when they found out what the judge had said.

A knock at the backdoor brought her out of her thoughts.

"If it's Brock, go away," She hollered.

A moment later, the door open and Barbra Jean walked in. "Hey, buddy."

"Oh," Reba said, standing. "It's you."

She closed the door. "Yeah. What's wrong?"

Reba pulled a glass of wine from the cabinet and got out a glass. "You want some?"

Barbra Jean shook her head. "I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yourself." She poured herself a glass and sat back down, taking a sip.

"So, what's up?" Barbra Jean asked. "You sounded very eager to talk to Brock a minute ago."

"I appreciate your sarcasm, but no. I have no desire to ever talk to him again."

"I know the feeling. But what'd he do?"

"We had court today."

"Oh. What happened?"

"The judge made this whole speech about stupid people who get drunk and get married in Vegas only to come back home wanting a divorce. He said he had let too many people off and that he wasn't going to let it continue."

"He's making you two stay married?"

"For a whole year."

"What? Can he do that?"

"Apparently." She took another drink of her wine. "Neither of us is thrilled about it."

"Well," Barbra Jean said, trying to be her usual bubbly self. "Maybe this is good. Maybe you two can work it out."

Reba slowly looked up. "We don't want to work it out, remember?"

"Reba, if this isn't fate, I don't know what is."

"Barbra Jean, that's a load of-"

"Hey..."

Reba looked up to see Brock's head peeking around the backdoor.

"What do you want?" She asked coldly, still not wanting to forget his words from earlier.

"I have a bit of a problem," He admitted. "Can I come in?"

"Why not?" Reba said. "Invite the whole family inside! Call the news people! Wanna tell 'em how you think I'll be alone forever?" She drank the last of her wine as Brock rolled his eyes, coming inside and shutting the door.

"I have a bigger problem than you being upset at me over some petty thing I said," He told her. "My condo just burnt down."

Reba stopped her huffing and puffing and looked at him. "Your condo?"

"Yeah. I just got the call. I guess the guys who were spraying lacquer on the cabinets to seal the stain were smoking while they were spraying it on and it caught on fire. Fire department couldn't contain it. There were open paint cans everywhere, it just spread too fast."

"Oh. Brock, I'm sorry." She had to feel a bit of sympathy for the guy, even if she was mad at him.

He shrugged. "These things happen, I guess."

"Where are you going to stay?" Barbra Jean asked. "You know I'm redoing the floors this week."

Brock sighed, knowing she was hinting around that he had overstayed his welcome and if he was going to be married to someone else, he surely couldn't continue living with her, even if it was convenient.

"I'm not sure," He said. "I guess I'll find a hotel or...something..." He looked at Reba with his puppy dog eyes and she immediately caught on.

"Oh, no!" She stood up, shaking her head. "No way, Brock, no way. We cannot live together!"

"But, Reba, I have nowhere to go!"

"Go find a hotel or a cheap apartment. You can't stay here!"

"Reba, I can't afford that right now. I just spent a lot of money trying to redo my condo and that all went up in smoke. Quite literally. I'm broke. You wouldn't throw your husband out on the street, would you?"

"This is just too bizarre to be true, Brock! First we're ordered to say married for a whole year and then your condo burns down causing you to have to live here? What's next? You get pregnant?"

"That is physically impossible."

"At this point, I wouldn't bat an eye at it." She shook her head again. "Not happening, Brock. There is no way we can live together."

"Just look at it this way, Reba," Barbra Jean spoke up. "This way you'll have someone to split the bills with, help clean up and make dinner. It'll be like having a roommate."

"I've never had a roommate that I outright hated!"

"Oh, come on, Reba," Brock said, sticking out his lower lip. "You can't hate your hubby."

"Don't say that. It makes me want to throw up."

Brock sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. "So, it's really a no? I can't stay here? It would only be temporary. Until I found a place I can afford."

"You talk like you work for minimum wage, Brock. You're a dentist. Get a hold of yourself."

"Can I, Reba? Please?"

Reba looked to Brock to Barbra Jean, who was nodding with a smile on her face, back to Brock and his puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, fine!"

He smiled like he had just won the lottery.

"But there have to be rules and you must abide by these rules or you're out."

"You have my word," Brock said. "What are they?"

"No coming into my room, no looking in my room, no using my towels, no using my car-"

"I have my own car."

"No interrupting," She gave him a harsh stare. "No staying up late watching movies in the living room with the television blaring. Basically all the annoying things you did when we were married the first time, don't do them."

"Can I have a few rules of my own?"

"No."

"But we're married. What's yours is mine, _honey_." He smiled and tilted his head to the side like a little boy and it took everything she had inside her not to haul off and punch him. How this was ever going to work, she didn't know._  
_


	6. Chapter 6

"I think that's the last box."

Brock sat the cardboard box down on the floor of Cheyenne and Van's old room. Reba walked in right behind him with a lamp and set it near his bed frame.

"Thank God," She said. "I'm beat." She put a hand to her head. "What time is it?"

Brock glanced at his watch. "Almost six."

They had been moving his things out of Barbra Jean's house all day, plus doing some rearranging in the garage so Reba could park her car there and Brock could park his in the driveway.

She nodded and looked around the room. "You sure have a lot of crap."

"And it was a pleasure moving it all into your house." He looked at her with a wide smile and saw her straight face. "Aw, come on." He elbowed her playfully. "I'll get everything arranged tomorrow so you don't have to look at the mess."

"You better." She began to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going? I thought you'd help me unpack a little."

When he heard her scoff as she went down the stairs, he rolled his eyes and followed her.

"I'm going to go get some dinner."

"I'll tag along."

She stopped to look at him. "I don't want this to become comfortable, Brock."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to act like a married couple. That translates to me not wanting to go out to dinner with you."

"So, I'm supposed to go without food?"

"You have a car. If you don't like what's in the kitchen, go to Burger King or something."

"Hey, Mom. Where are you going?" Jake came running down the stairs with a smile on his face.

"I'm going to pick up something for dinner. Wanna come?"

"Sure!" He went to grab his jacket. "Dad, are you coming, too?" He had been informed of his parents' situation and couldn't be happier with it.

Brock looked up at Reba who was digging around in her purse for something. He knew she had done that on purpose, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Nah," He told Jake. "I think I'll just eat something here and unpack some." When Jake's face showed disappointment, Brock added, "But while you're out, grab a movie and we can all have a movie night when you get back." He had to chuckle when Reba jerked her head up and gave him the death glare. He couldn't let her win at everything.

* * *

"That part where the guy blew up all those buildings to save that girl from the zombie was awesome."

The movie had just ended and Jake couldn't stop talking about how much he liked it.

"What was your favorite part, Dad?" He asked as Reba began shutting off the DVD player.

"Oh, I liked it all pretty much the same," He said with a yawn.

"What was your favorite part, Mom?"

Reba shrugged. "I liked it all the same, too."

"You can't even think of one part you liked best out of the whole movie?" Jake asked.

"Well, the part at the end when the couple finally got together was sweet."

"You've never liked sappy parts in movies," Brock said, looking at her.

She shrugged. "I thought it was nice among all the violence."

"That's just awful strange coming from you."

"In the ten years we've been divorced, Brock, I'm sure there are a lot of things that are different about me that you would find strange."

"Fair enough. I was just a bit shocked is all." He turned to Jake. "I had to drag her to the movies every time there was a sappy romance film out."

"You liked romantic comedies, Dad?"

"Occasionally. Your mother hated them."

"And I still do. It's just that some scenes get me."

Jake pondered a moment before asking, "If you two are so different and have nothing in common, why did you fall in love all those years ago?"

Neither spoke. It had been a long time since Reba had heard that question, if ever. She hadn't thought about it in a while. Thankfully, before the silence could go on any longer, Brock answered.

"Well, Jake, have you met your mother? It's hard not to be around her and not fall head over heels for her."

Reba wouldn't meet his eyes. She knew a lot of his words came from their current situation and she didn't want to be infatuated with them. Unfortunately for her, Brock continued.

"A lot of the things I fell for her have changed, I'm not saying they haven't. But the things that replaced them I have also grown to love."

"Do you still love her?"

"Sure."

"But he's not in love with me," Reba said, finally getting the courage to speak up. She looked at the two. "There's a difference right, Brock?"

"Yes. There is." He met her eyes. "But I still love her."

"What made you fall in love with Dad the first time?" Jake asked, turning to his mother.

"Well, a lot of things," She simply said, hoping he wouldn't press the issue.

"Like what?"

She rolled her neck. "Too many to name right now." She took a deep breath and stood up. "Why don't we all get ready for bed. It's almost eleven."

"I don't have school tomorrow," Jake said.

"Why not?"

"Teacher planning day or something. All I know is that I don't have to go to school in the morning."

"Well, your dad and I have to go to work." She shut off the lamp.

"I'm not that tired, Reba," Brock said.

"Well, then you two stay up. I don't care. I'm going to bed." She kissed Jake on the forehead. "Night, honey."

"Night, Mom."

"Goodnight, Reba."

She just looked at Brock, not returning the expression and walked up the stairs to her room. As she rounded the steps into the hallway, she heard Jake's voice, whispering.

"Why is Mom upset?"

"She's not," Brock told him in the same hushed tone.

"Dad, I'm not five anymore. I know something's bothering her. What is it? Did you do something?"

"Why would you think that I did something?"

"You used to make her mad a lot."

Reba sighed and leaned against the wall. The last thing she wanted was for her kids to think that she hated their father. From Jake's statement, his mindset was surely headed in that direction.

"I know I did," Brock responded after a moment. "I'm trying to fix that, though."

"Is she mad because you two are married again?"

"I'm sure that doesn't help anything."

"Do you really not want to be married to her, Dad?"

She didn't hear Brock's answer. Maybe it was because she chose not to hear it or maybe it was because he spoke in an even lower tone just in case he knew she was listening. Either way, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She just wanted this next year to hurry up and be over so she could go back to her normal life without having to worry about Brock.


	7. Chapter 7

"What are you doing still up?"

Reba lifted her head from the puzzle she was doing at the kitchen counter. She shrugged and went back to it after seeing Brock walk through the backdoor. It was after ten o'clock at night and he was just now getting home.

"What are you doing?" He asked, shutting the door quietly.

"Couldn't sleep." She lifted her head again. "Why are you just now getting home?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I stayed at the office and got some work done. I kept putting it off and putting it off, so I figured I'd just do it tonight so it wasn't staring me down tomorrow."

She nodded, not really listening.

"Are you doing a puzzle?"

"Yes, Brock."

He walked forward, observing her as she searched for the spot to place the piece she was holding. She had gotten the most of the edge put together, but those last few pieces were confusing.

"That goes right there."

"What?" She looked up.

"That piece goes there." He pointed to an empty space. "See how the piece is purple and not red? It's part of the purple flower on the left."

She thought about it a moment and tried it. Sure enough, it fit.

"You're welcome," He said.

"I didn't ask for help."

"So I don't get a thank-you?"

She looked up at him, picking up another piece. "Do you want one?"

"Might be nice."

"What would be nice is if you went on up to bed."

"Am I bothering you?"

She raised her hand and put her index finger and thumb up, almost touching them. Her face was full of sarcasm. "Just a bit."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, but I had a stressful day at work."

"Is Jake here?"

"Yes, but he's asleep, so please don't go bothering him about playing video games tonight. You two can do that tomorrow." She placed another piece in its spot. "And by the way, thanks so much for keeping him up until two in the morning the last night. That was great."

"Do you keep cameras around now?"

"No, but when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I usually check on him. Last night when I got up, he wasn't in his room. I put two and two together, Brock, just don't do it anymore."

He sighed and walked away from her, going to the refrigerator and opening it. "I really can't do anything without you finding something wrong with how I'm doing it." He scanned the shelves. "Do we have anything to eat?"

"No, _I_ do not have anything to eat, Brock. I haven't had the chance to go to the store this week." She looked up at him. "I've been kind of busy moving you in."

"Oh, you're still mad about that?" He slammed the door closed.

"Don't slam stuff!" She placed both hands firmly on the counter. "You'll wake Jake up_._"

Brock rolled his eyes. "You know, this arrangement is ridiculous. Maybe I just need to go find an apartment after all. I can't take one step without you saying something about it."

"Best idea you've had all night. Why don't you go do that now? I'll even mail your stuff to you as long as you get out now."

He walked out of the room without another word and she sighed in relief. Hopefully, he was going to pack an overnight bag and go to a hotel. Maybe then she could finally get some rest. There was just something about him being right down the hall that made her mind not want to turn off and go to sleep.

"I know what you need."

She placed her head on the counter at the sound of his voice entering the kitchen once more. "I thought you were leaving," She mumbled.

"No. We're married. I can't."

She sensed the sarcasm in his voice and it ticked her off. She lifted her head to see him walk around the counter, holding something.

"What is that?" She asked.

"The answer to all your problems. I've kept it for an ocassion such as now."

"What is it?" She repeated.

He held hit up and her eyes went wide.

"Get that out of my house now! What if Jake saw it?" She reached for it, but he stepped back.

"Relax. It's just a joint, not a bomb."

She let her mouth hang open while she stared at him. "How long have you had that? Have you been smoking pot in here? Are you high now?"

"Would you stop with all the questions?" He laughed a little. "This isn't my first rodeo."

"Oh, believe me, I know. Where did you get it?"

"A friend."

"A friend? What friend?"

"That's not important." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box of matches. "Want to try it? You were always too scared to in college." He grinned, knowing she'd give in at some point or another.

"I wasn't scared," She said, trying to defend herself. "It's illegal, Brock. It was then and it is now."

"Only if you get caught." He tossed it her way. "Wanna look at it?"

"I've seen it before." She flicked it back to him and he picked it up.

"So you don't want to try it? It'll help you relax."

"No. I'm not going to try it."

"Reba, don't be a little girl. It's nothing serious. We're in the house. Nobody's going to find out."

"Brock, no-"

"Reba, you've never done it. How can you know if you don't like something if you've never even tried it? I wouldn't give it to you if I thought it would hurt you."

"I've smoked it before, okay?" She looked him dead in the eye, exhaling heavily as his facial expression changed. His eyes widened and he fumbled for words.

"What?" He laughed. "You've smoked pot? When?"

"When we broke up in college."

"For a week?"

"Yes. And I was arrested for it, too."

"Do _what_?" She was sure his eyes were going to bug out of his head at that statement. "How...how...I can't..." He swallowed, trying to compose himself, knowing that was something very unlike her. "Are you serious?"

She laughed. "No. But you should have seen your face." She went back to her puzzle to leave him with his thoughts. She wasn't sure what brought her to joke with him; he was getting on her very last nerve. But she did and she had a good time trying to "get" him. Satisfied with her accomplishment, she snuck a look at him. He was still standing against the counter with wide eyes. He saw her looking at him and smiled.

"Okay, you got me."

She smirked and began her puzzle once more. "Goodnight, Brock."

He sighed and reluctantly began making his way out of the kitchen. "I hope you know that you will smoke that joint with me. I'll get you to do it if it's the last thing I ever do."

She had to shake her head, repeating her earlier statement with a bit more force. "Goodnight, Brock."

"Goodnight, Red."


End file.
